


Touch

by TheRoarOfAtlas



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, I think not, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, can I go one fucking story without referencing IRS, professor!Bo Dallas, reader has female body parts, this is a walking stereotype and I make no apologies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-07 17:30:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10365813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRoarOfAtlas/pseuds/TheRoarOfAtlas
Summary: Welcome aboard, to another Thirst Party Saturday! This installment is brought to you by three fingers (or so) of delicious honey bourbon, and dedicated to everyone who's ever had some thoughts about their professor. [College!Alternate Universe][x-posted to Tumblr]Enjoy!





	

**Author's Note:**

> [!TRIGGER WARNING!: For brief mentions of divorce and marital problems.]

Professor Dallas was a breath of fresh air on campus. A younger teacher who wasn’t yet burned out or bitter, he always had a bright smile and something encouraging to say. His button-down shirts were a bit too big for his frame, and he wore loud, paisley ties. When asked about the ties, he just grinned broadly and said that he’d inherited his father’s love of math as well as his tie collection.

 

He had shoulder-length brown hair that he usually kept pulled back in a bun, and warm brown eyes with smile wrinkles already starting to set in around them. He let students eat during his lessons as long as they weren’t too distracting (which was a _huge_ hit for the exhausted college-goers who didn’t have time to get to the cafeteria between courses), and since he was on the younger side many of his students felt more comfortable talking with him. This led to livelier classes and him quickly becoming a ‘favorite’ among the student body.

 

You had come into the course in the fall fully resigned to fumble through to a barely passing grade. You were _terrible_ at math, but it was a basic prerequisite for the program you were interested in. So you had walked to Professor Dallas’s classroom with a heavy heart.

 

“ _Call me crazy, but you don’t seem thrilled to be here!_ ” Professor Dallas had said to you. “ _It’s the tie, isn’t it? Blue is_ _ **not**_ _my color._ ”

 

You were caught entirely off guard, squinting at the tie. There…might have been some blue in it? It looked mostly red to you, but it was so hard to tell. The pattern was outrageously eighties. “ _N-No, the tie is fine. It matches your…binder?_ ”

 

His face had _lit_ up at that, brown eyes crinkling at the edges when he smiled. “ _Really? Wow, that’s so nice of you to say! But if it’s not my tie, what could it be?_ ”

 

“ _I know I’m going to fail._ ” You confessed. “ _I’m no good with numbers and nothing seems to help_. _But I really need to pass this class._ ”

 

“ _Prerequisite hell, huh?_ ” He had asked sympathetically. “ _I hear you, I remember getting stuck in that vortex_. _Look, if you don’t understand something, just ask. Or wave. Send me a smoke signal._ ” He smiled again when you giggled. “ _The thing about math is that a_ _ **lot**_ _of people don’t understand it, but they’re scared of being singled out as ‘the dumb one’ so they fudge their way through it and don’t end up learning anything_.”

 

“ _You know me too well, Professor_.” You replied wryly.

 

He spread his arms, tugging up his shirtsleeves. “ _I’ve_ _ **been**_ _you! It’s okay. Hey, if you feel like you’re interrupting class by asking questions…well, don’t feel that way because that’s what I’m here for, to answer questions and help you learn! You can always catch me after class, though, if you’re not comfortable with it at first. I’m sure I’ll have plenty of grading to do, stuff like that. So make a note every time you don’t understand stuff and I’ll do my best to get you up to speed_.” He offered.

 

Professor Dallas was a man of his word with the patience of Job. Multiple evenings after class were spent in his classroom, you plying him with questions while he graded quizzes and did out his lesson plans. The excitement that he displayed when you figured out a problem in your head was infectious. Never mind that it had taken you over five minutes, your fingers tapping on your desk as you mouthed numbers to yourself in an effort to keep track of everything.

 

Professor Dallas took to calling on you in class, giving you a chance to become more confident in your budding skills. Even if you _didn’t_ have the right answer, it was incredibly satisfying to think that your professor believed you might. He was endlessly energetic, bounding from desk to desk as he sought the student who might know the correct answer. Then once he found them, he would ask their method and explain it to the class to the fullest of his ability.

 

Professor Dallas liked to explore the different ways to solve problems, from doing out all the steps to cutting corners. “ _There’s no wrong way to do it, as long as you’re not looking at an answer key_.” He had said. “ _Math is a constant. If you do it right, no matter_ _ **how**_ _you do it right, the answer will be right_.” Sometimes the way the professor wrote things out didn’t make sense to you, but then someone else in the class would have a different way of doing the equation that you could understand.

 

You were pretty sure you weren’t the only one in the room that was managing to pull your grade up out of the garbage. This _was_ the Math ninety class, dubbed “ _Catch All_ ”, for the young adults like yourself who had no hope of passing math. Professor Dallas obviously knew that when he accepted the course. _Technically_ it could have been an easy paycheck for him, it wasn’t like anyone was paying attention to how many kids flunked out of the simplest math class the college offered. But he worked hard to get even the most hopeless students engaged in the lessons. “ _Someone else might have a better way of doing it! Who can help them out?_ ” He created an atmosphere of teamwork, the whole class offering different methods until they found one the individual could understand.

 

Professor Dallas _loved_ quizzes. Normally they would fill you with dread, but all of his were either open book or take home, which allowed you ample time to figure out the correct answers instead of frantically guessing like you always had before. Take homes he would assign on Wednesday and ask that they be turned back in by Friday, “ _I know you guys probably have important stuff to do during the weekend!_ ”

 

The last class before Thanksgiving break though, the Professor Dallas that walked into the classroom was…off. His smiles didn’t come easy and his enthusiasm seemed forced. He stayed seated for almost twenty solid minutes, which was _unheard_ of.

 

When a loud ringtone interrupted him mid-sentence, he visibly cringed and held up a finger. “Excuse me guys, I have to take this. I'll be in my office. Just...keep reading the book.” Normally he had everyone silence their phones, so this was entirely unprecedented.

 

Once he left the room it practically _erupted_ with concerned whispers. “ _What’s up with Professor Dallas?_ ” “ _Maybe he’s sick._ ” “ _He looked really upset!_ ” “ _Wonder who’s on the phone_.” You were just as worried as everyone else, trying to focus on the words in the math book before you finally gave up and slammed it shut. _Professor, I hope you're okay_.

 

His office was across the hall from the classroom, so it wasn’t a long walk. But Professor Dallas didn’t return for a good half-hour. A couple of the other students left early, wishing everyone a happy Thanksgiving as they did. The normal three-hour block for the class was almost up by the time Professor Dallas finally reappeared.

 

He looked _terrible_ , his hair all tangled up like he’d pulled it out of his bun and then tried to fix it again. He kept his eyes down and braced his hands on his desk. “I’m sorry that I…wasted everyone’s time today. I-I should have known better than to come in like this. You guys…you guys have a good holiday, okay?” He sat down heavily and put his face in his hands, waving off the worried questions that flew from the few of you still in the classroom. The rest of the students slowly trickled out until only you remained.

 

Professor Dallas raised his head and saw you still sitting there, and for just a second he almost looked better. “What…what can I do for you?” He asked quietly.

 

“Professor, what’s _wrong?_ What happened?” There was no reason for him to answer you any differently than the six or seven other people who had asked, but you hoped against hope that he would.

 

He shook his head, sighing. “It’s alright. I’ll…you don’t need to worry about me, okay? Just some bad news.” He chuckled sadly. “Some _really_ bad news.” He started fidgeting with the ring on his finger, sliding it around and around. He’d mentioned during one session (with the _cutest_ blush you’d ever seen) that he was “ _kind_ _of_ _newly_ _married_ , _it’s been almost two years_.” The class had of course dissolved into a juvenile chorus of coos and overly-sappy “ _aww_ ”s, making the young professor laugh and hide his face in embarrassment.

 

“Are you going to be alright?” You asked, getting up from your desk after shoving your notebooks into your backpack. Professor Dallas nodded after a few seconds, not meeting your eyes. “That’s not very convincing, professor.” You couldn’t help the scolding tone your voice took.

 

“I know.” He replied weakly. “I’m uh. I don’t feel very convincing right now.”

 

“I’m really worried about you. You’ve done so much for all of us. I just want you to be okay.” You said sincerely.

 

Professor Dallas snorted. “I think this class cares more about me than--shit, sorry. I um. You should go. Don’t want to miss your train or bus or however you’re getting home for Thanksgiving.” He mumbled.

 

You dug back into your backpack for one of your notebooks, ripping a piece of paper out and quickly jotting down your phone number. Then, you slapped the paper onto his desk and proceeded to fold it in half, and in half once more. “If you need anything over the week, Professor. Someone to talk to, anything.” You said firmly, taking his hand and closing his fingers around the paper. “We _need_ you, okay? I’m not one for big gestures or any of that stuff, but you seem to actually give a damn whether we fail out of your class, and I _know_ you don’t have to. I don’t know what happened but you’re _obviously_ upset.” You pointed out. “So if you need someone to talk to, I’m here for you. Do you want a hug?”

 

Professor Dallas nodded after a minute, standing up from his desk. You wrapped him up in a tight embrace, startled when he let a shuddering sob escape. “Professor…” You murmured, even more worried now. “Are you alright to go home? I can wait here if you need someone with you.”

 

“No no I'm fine. I'm...I'm fine.” He choked out. “I really shouldn't keep you. I...you go ahead now. I'll be alright.”

 

You weren’t convinced but finally agreed to head out, with the condition that he send you a text once he got home safely. You gave him one last hug before you left, and he offered you a shaky smile when you pulled away. It wasn’t anything close to his usual grin, but it was an attempt.

 

…

 

- _i’m home. thank you_.

 

You frowned down at your phone, finger hovering over the call button. You didn’t want to be intrusive. His next text came while you were debating.

 

- _am I at least liked in the CLASS? I seem to be._

 

- _Of course you are, Professor Dallas! You’re an excellent teacher._

 

- _ok._

 

You tapped your fingers on the table. Was it strange to be this concerned about your professor? He _had_ been incredibly kind and patient all semester. It only seemed fair to return the favor when he appeared to need it.

 

- _Professor I hope I’m not invading your space or anything like that, I promise I’m not trying to be pushy. It’s just kind of scary seeing you like this and obviously I want to help if I can._

 

You bit your lip, worried that even _that_ might be overstepping your boundaries. You’d resigned yourself to the fact that you had probably pushed too far when your phone finally lit up with his reply.

 

- _hey, I’ll be okay. thank you for caring, for what it’s worth. just got my parade rained on is all._

 

- _You have a place to go for turkey?_

 

- _big brother lives out in Louisiana. holidays usually happen at his home. lots of room. always a good time._

 

- _Alright Professor. I know I speak for all the class when I say I hope you enjoy your holiday. See you next week!_

 

- _so formal! just call me bo._

 

- _Okay, Professor Bo_.

 

…

 

Professor Dallas-- _Bo_ was an old hand when it came to communication. He started sending snapchats once he arrived at his brother’s house and didn’t stop for much. Bray (his brother) apparently had a taste for the macabre and was covered in tattoos, with a mountain man beard and piercing blue eyes.

 

“ _He’s got Dad’s eyes_.” Bo explained in a brief clip, holding up a picture of a burly man wearing a _very_ familiar white shirt and brightly-colored tie. “ _We both got his smile though_.” He smiled broadly then, like he used to. “ _Real trio of heartbreak kids, we were_.”

 

Over the course of the break he seemed to drink a lot, but he also seemed to brighten back up. He was damn near _despondent_ for the first few days so it was a relief to see him return to almost normal. His snapchats got goofier as the week went on, and you found yourself looking at your phone every time it went off in the hopes that it was Bo with another holiday update. Bray seemed to appreciate his antics to a certain extent, the occasional smile quirking his lips when he thought the camera wasn’t on him. Obviously you and the class weren’t the only ones worried about Bo.

 

“ _Bray say hi t’ my star student!_ ” Bo exclaimed drunkenly one night, his brother shaking his head at him. “ _He’s shy_.”

 

_Me? Star student?_ You were confused, tilting your head as another snap came through.

 

It was Bray, looking apologetic as he quietly said, “ _Sorry about that. Gets in his cups since the wife left him. I’m takin’ care of him though, make sure the class ain’t worryin’._ ” You quickly replayed the snap, unsure if Bray’s heavier accent was playing tricks on your ears.

 

“ _Since the wife left him_.”

 

Bo had been happily married as far as you knew, what on _earth_ could have happened? He didn’t exactly seem like the type to abuse someone or cheat on them. Bray had said she left _him_ though. That snapchat was apparently the last one for the day, however, which meant you went to bed curious. You tossed and turned for most of the night, staring up at the ceiling and wondering what could have gone wrong.

 

You texted Bo the next morning after waiting as long as you were physically able, yawning widely as you did.

 

- _Hey, your brother mentioned something about your wife last night. Are you guys okay?_

 

That didn’t seem too nosy, right? You really _weren’t_ trying to be annoying. Honest! You were just… _concerned_.

 

- _as good as we can be, I guess_. Was Bo’s short reply. You took the hint and quickly changed the subject, asking him what was on his agenda for the day.

 

- _Any quizzes for us Prof?_

 

- _you’re on break! don't worry I’ll have plenty of new ideas for the rest of the semester. once I get rid of this godawful headache._

 

- _Party Professor!_ You grinned down at your phone.

 

- _heck no, I should have quit years ago_.

 

…

 

After the break Professor Dallas was much better than the last time you’d seen him in class, but he still seemed less enthusiastic compared to how he’d been before that fateful day. It was almost as if he was putting on a show or a brave face most days, trying to keep everyone from worrying about him.

 

Finals were drawing near and for the first time in years you felt like your chances at a solid ‘C’ grade were actually _good_. With that weight off your shoulders, you found your thoughts preoccupied more and more with your young professor's well-being. Maybe it was the newfound confidence you had, or maybe it was something a little more base. But after your final exam had been turned in you stood nervously outside the door of Professor Dallas’s office, hand raised and ready to knock.

 

“-not the one that asked for this, alright?” Bo sounded frustrated. You didn’t mean to eavesdrop, it just…kind of happened. “You _wanted_ this and I went along because if you weren’t happy then why the heck should I be?” He paused. “No no, you don’t get to pull that with me. I am…no. I’m not. You blocked _my_ number right after the divorce lawyer called me, so don’t lecture _me_ about communication.”

 

Your eyes widened. _His wife? Or…I guess ex-wife?_ Not wanting to inadvertently listen in any longer, you knocked loudly on the door.

 

Professor Dallas cleared his throat. “Come in!” He called.

 

“Professor.” You peeked your head around the door. “I'm sorry to interrupt, I wanted to talk to you before you headed out for the night. Should I come back some other time?”

 

“No no, I was done anyways.” He grimaced. “Did you uh...how much did you hear?”

 

“Oh, not much!” You replied cheerily. “I only just finished organizing my notes. Figured I'd pop over, I had a question.”

 

“Of course, whatever you need.” Bo shuffled his papers around on the desk, starting to stack everything into a neat pile so he could file it. “What's up?”

 

“I uh...” Now that you were actually _here_ , it was a little more daunting. “I wanted to talk with you about...um. H-How you're doing?” You asked awkwardly, your fingers picking at the frayed strap of your backpack.

 

“How you're doing?” Bo asked in confusion, “Well you're doing great! I mean, your improvement is _phenomenal_ and, well, I keep meaning to say this but I can never really find the right time.” He folded his hands on his desk and swallowed, seeming almost nervous. “You've really made me proud in this class. You came in here with reservations and doubt but you've performed admirably. You never shirked or wallowed in self-pity, you just kept at it until you finally seemed to understand.”

 

“I didn't wallow in class, that is.” You had to interject, making him laugh. “Trust me, my dorm was wallow central. _'Professor Dallas obviously hates me_ ', was my life for the first couple of classes.” You took a deep breath. “But I wasn’t asking about _me_ , Professor. I was asking about _you_. You’re still...you’re not yourself yet. We've noticed.”

 

There. You’d said it.

 

“Oh.” Bo said weakly. “How _I’m_ doing. Well I…I mean I’m fine, I’m not too bad. You shouldn’t worry about me.”

 

“’Fine’ and ‘not too bad’ are sort of on opposite ends of the spectrum, professor.” You pointed out. The time for worrying about whether you were being invasive had apparently passed.

 

Bo looked startled for a second, like he couldn’t believe that you’d called him on it. “I…”

 

“Remember what I said that day? If you need anything. If you need someone to talk to.” You reminded him quietly, sliding your backpack off your shoulders and resting it on the ground beside the door. “I don’t know when I became the class spokesperson, but _everyone_ is worried about you. Not just me.”

 

“I know. I’m sorry about that. I thought I was doing pretty good.” Bo groaned, plopping his face into his hands. Your eyes widened as you noticed his wedding ring was gone. “My wife and…I mean, my ex-wife. Um, right before Thanksgiving, she uh…” Bo lifted his head, huffing in a breath. “Filed for the divorce. I should have seen it coming. She wasn’t happy with the fact that I was teaching, seemed to think I’d give it up once we got married and get a job with the government or something.”

 

“Why didn’t you? Probably would pay better and you wouldn’t have to deal with the dregs of the mathematics community.” You pointed out.

 

“I wanted to help people learn.” Bo replied softly, his eyes fixed on his hands. “I wanted…look, my dad worked for the IRS. He loved it. But it wasn’t for me. I need to _move_ , I need to smile and talk and help people. I can’t do that sitting in a cubicle.”

 

“So she…”

 

“It’s been put through.” Bo’s smile was strained. “If everything goes well, it'll all be finalized come March. I suppose I should be thankful that we didn’t have any little ones to get caught up in the mix.”

 

“Professor I’m so sorry.” You felt awful for him, but a tiny, selfish part of you was glad that he talked to you. You had grown very attached to the young man in front of you during the break and time spent in class, and it was somewhat validating that he chose to confide in you.

 

“Don’t apologize. Obviously it was doomed from the start. She expected me to get a different job, I expected her to understand that teaching is all I want to do.” Professor Dallas shrugged. “It didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would. Still hurt, but I think I’m over the worst of it now.”

 

“Is there anything we can do to help?” You asked, putting your hands on his desk and giving him a serious look. “Anything _I_ can do to help? Do you need food? A place to stay? Stuff like that.”

 

“Oh no no, I’m fine. She said I could keep the house. She’s so gracious, permitting me to continue living in the house I’m paying the mortgage on.” Bo’s tone was dry and you couldn’t help your giggle. He grinned after a second, standing up and walking around his desk. “You’ve been an absolute breath of fresh air during this whole fiasco. Even when my snapchats got out of hand.”

 

“I love your snapchats and texts so don’t go there, Professor. I’m glad I can talk with you.” He smiled again and you couldn’t help but smile back, tilting your chin up. “There you are. Been a while since I’ve seen you, really _you_ , Professor.”

 

“Been a while since I’ve felt like myself.” His smile softened. “Thank you.” The kiss he gave you was sudden and unexpected. You made a startled noise and Bo flinched, pulling back and pressing a hand over his mouth. “Oh, oh my God. I’m uh. Shit, I didn’t mean to do that.” He finally sputtered. “ _Shit_ , I’m so sorry, I swear I didn’t-”

 

“Why are you apologizing?” You asked quietly, feeling like your heart was going to beat out of your chest.

 

“I got carried away, I--um. That was incredibly inappropriate of me. I’m so sorry.” He sounded horrified. “I’m not normally like this, I promise. It’s just…I mean, we’ve been talking a lot and you’ve been so kind to me through this whole process, I-”

 

That vibrant paisley tie made the perfect handhold and you dragged his head back down for a second kiss, your fingers firmly gripping the fabric. Bo whimpered into your mouth and you pulled away, feeling incredibly self-satisfied when he leaned to follow you. Bo looked dazed, his eyes half-closed and his chest heaving. “You…what?” He asked after a minute, the uncertainty in his voice heartbreaking. “If this is a joke, it’s not funny.”

 

“I want you to be happy again, professor.” You said firmly, loosening his tie. “And if this is how I do it, that’s fine by me.”

 

“Oh wow.” He mumbled. “Just for me, though? I um…wow.” Bo straightened up abruptly. “Wait, wait. I can show you your grades right now if you want, you…you don’t have to do this.” He spoke slowly, reluctantly.

 

Your eyes narrowed as you realized what he was implying. “This isn’t about my _grades_ , professor!” You answered sharply, exasperated. “I’m here to help _you_ , okay? I don’t want anything in return, just...let me _help_ , dammit.”

 

Bo still seemed skeptical, fidgeting under your stern look. “You…you have to understand, alright, it’s not because of you.” He mumbled finally. “My w--my _ex_ -wife said certain things and it’s been…um, _difficult_ to get past some of them.”

 

“I’m not her.” You crossed your arms. “Tell me what you want, professor.” Bo put his face in his hands, his cheeks a brilliant shade of pink. Whatever he said was muffled by his hands and you tugged them away from his face. “No hiding from me, Bo. What do you want?” Your voice was a little gentler this time. “What do you need from me?” You knelt in front of him, hearing his sharp intake of breath when you unbuttoned your jacket and tossed it to one side.

 

“Y-You can’t do that.” Bo stammered. “Can’t just…not like that, oh God.” Despite his words, he didn’t seem to be able to help the way his fingers ran through your hair carefully. He swallowed hard. “Would you…” He paused, biting his lip. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

 

“Highly unlikely. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be.” You assured him, smiling.

 

That seemed to give him enough confidence to open his mouth again. “Would you maybe…unzip my pants?” Bo asked, looking worried. “Only if you want to, of course! I don’t-” His words died in his throat as you unbuckled his belt and unzipped his fly, then looked up at him expectantly.

 

“Now what?” Granted, you could _guess_ at what he wanted, but you hoped he would ask you anyway.

 

He squirmed at your continued eye contact, his hands fiddling with your hair. “I...c-could you maybe. Um.” Bo took one of your hands and brought it to rest on the swell of his hardening cock in his boxers. “P-Please.”

 

“I can do that.” You said softly, sliding his boxers down a little so you could wrap your fingers around his cock.

 

Bo jolted with a gasp, body quivering nervously under your touch as you stroked him to full hardness. “Oh no, oh God...” He moaned, hips shuddering when you mouthed over the head of his cock. “Don't stop, please, please, don't stop-”

 

“I won't, I promise.” You whispered, guiding his hand to the back of your head. You wrapped your lips around his cock and sloppily licked the underside, getting a keening noise out of him that sent a shiver down your spine. He began thrusting his cock into your mouth, just barely. Little pulses of his hips, like he was afraid of choking you. You took him as deeply as you could, the head of his cock tapping the back of your throat for a split second.

 

Bo slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle the sound he made, eyes wide as he watched you suck him off. “Oh my f- _ucking_ God.” He gasped, biting down on his knuckles directly afterwards.

 

You whined around his cock, the swear sending a hot wave of arousal through your body. Professor Dallas usually refrained from cursing in the classroom, he said it was distracting. Now you could see what he meant, because hearing him swear in that breathless manner was _incredibly_ distracting.

 

“Wait wait _wait_ -” Bo suddenly tugged at your hair, slowing your bobbing motion. “M' gonna' come if you keep that up b-but I...God _dammit_ I want to fuck you, please let me fuck you, _please_.” He begged, cupping your face and pulling your mouth off his cock. “Please, please-” He groaned when you lightly ran your fingertip up the underside of his cock, smiling.

 

“Sit down, professor. I'll take care of you.” You murmured, pressing one last kiss to the head of his cock.

 

Bo grabbed your arm and hauled you upright, pressing your body to his and emitting an odd, humming sort of croon into your mouth as his cock rubbed against your stomach through your clothes. “I have to confess, there were a couple of times I...thought about you in ways that I shouldn't.” He breathed. “Wondered if there...i-if maybe I was just flattering myself. I don't believe...I _can't_ believe this is really happening.” He gestured at you, and then at himself.

 

You frowned at him. “Sit down.” You ordered curtly, moving away to lock the door. Professor Dallas obeyed almost instantly; you heard the creak of the chair as he sat. “You thought about me in ways you shouldn't, huh?” You asked, smiling to yourself as you began working your tights down your legs. You toed off your sneakers and bent over to step out of your tights, listening to the stifled whine you got in reply when you dragged your panties down with them. “Naughty professor.” You scolded, whirling around to face him.

 

Bo looked absolutely _breathtaking_ , splayed out in his office chair with his pants around his ankles and his hair mussed out of its bun in a couple of different spots. His cock stood proudly upright, beading precome at the tip. You began unbuttoning your shirt and his eyes widened, following your fingers hungrily. “A-All I can do is...is beg for your forgiveness.” He replied weakly.

 

You shook your head, trying to seem disappointed. “No, what you're _going_ to do is let me fuck your cock. We'll see what happens after that.”

 

“Y-You really-”

 

“Did I not say I would take care of you? Weren't you just asking to fuck me?” You reminded him, stifling the noise you wanted to make at the flush that reddened his cheeks. “Stop questioning me.”

 

“Okay. I...okay.” He whispered.

 

His quiet response concerned you a little and you tugged his chin up, searching his eyes. “This alright? Too much?”

 

“N-No! No no, I'm...I like it, I promise. I told you, she...she said some things to me.” Bo answered, seeming pained.

 

“Let me get them out of your head, okay? What do you want me to do next?” You asked, surprised when he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his lap.

 

“Let me... _please_ , let me have sex with you.” He implored, hissing in a breath as you straddled his cock. “Yes, _yes_ , please-” Bo threw his head back, whole body shaking as you sank down onto him and he gripped the armrests of his chair. “ _Oh_ , fuck!” He cried, like he couldn't help himself.

 

“Jesus, _Bo_ -” You moaned, rocking your hips against him. The way he shook all but undid you and you huffed out a breath. “Th-This is fucking ridiculous, I can't-”

 

“Please don't stop, don't stop, don't _tease_ me-” Bo half-sobbed, burying his face in your neck. His hands dragged at your blouse, pulling it off your shoulders. “I haven't been fucking touched in _months_ , p-please, _please_ -” He begged frantically. “I need you to fuck me, I _need_ you to fuck me, _please_.”

 

Your mind struggled to catch up with the way his words spilled out, foggy with arousal. “You haven't...?” You paused, draping your arms lazily over his shoulders and tilting your head. “Really?”

 

Bo shook his head jerkily, looking torn. “She didn't want to touch me. M' a disappointment, always c-come too soon-”

 

“That's fucking stupid.” You interrupted him bluntly. “You come when you want to, Bo. That's the shittiest excuse for not touching someone that I've ever heard, and I'll tell her that to her face.”

 

“Oh my G- _God_ thank you, thank you, Jesus fucking Christ-” A few tears rolled down his cheeks and he tucked his face into your neck again, kissing the skin there. “Th-Thank you for having sex with me, thank you for touching me, thank you so much-” His words were muffled but still made their way to you.

 

“Shh, it's okay. It's okay.” You soothed, feeling oddly protective. You cupped the back of his head, whimpering when he mouthed over the swell of your breasts. “Bo, whatever she said to you...” You trailed off as he nipped at one of your peaks through your bra. He nosed over the area curiously, finally tugging your bra down so your breasts spilled over the top. You couldn't help the needy sound you made while he pawed at you clumsily, thumbs sweeping across your peaks. “ _God_ , you're so good to me.” You praised, smiling down at him when he looked up. “Anyone who has you is lucky, Bo. Remember that.”

 

“R-Really?”

 

Your response was shifting your body against his own, digging your fingers into his tangled bun. He groaned, lavishing your breasts with attention as you fucked yourself on his cock. You rolled your hips _hard_ , your body already in spasm around him. “You’re _patient_. You’re kind a-and always willing to help.” Your voice broke when Bo thrust up into you. “You smile and you laugh and you give great advice. I d-don’t…I don’t understand how anyone could _not_ want you, honestly.” You shrugged your shoulders, leaning forward over him and grinding your body down to meet his thrusts.

 

Bo’s mouth had gone slack and you took the opportunity to kiss him sweetly, moving his hands until they rested on your hips. “I’ve…no one’s ever really wanted to…I mean, I thought she did, but…” Bo mumbled in a fragmented manner until you shushed him, fingers stroking his hair. “I’m sorry, you j-just feel so good around me, I--” He panted, his hips bucking underneath you. “I’m so glad you’re here with me, Jesus Christ I’m so glad-” He lowered his head to your breasts again, getting you to whimper as he circled his tongue around one of your nipples. He gently tugged on it with his teeth and you arched your back, making him groan around his mouthful.

 

“Mm, I love your mouth.” You said breathlessly. “You’re amazing, _fuck_ , you’re so _good_.” To drive the point home you picked up the pace, using the desk for leverage so you could fuck down onto him properly. You were determined to give him a performance that would at _least_ be in his top five, if not number one.

 

Bo choked on his breath, fingers gripping your hips tight enough to bruise. “Oh God, sweetheart you can’t-- _Jesus_ you… _God_ , keep going, just _keep_ going. M’ so close, _fuck_.” He pleaded. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, _don’t_ stop-”

 

“I won’t, I promise, we’ll get off.” You wondered dazedly what his ex-wife had done to him to get him this riled up, just over coming. But you didn’t devote much time to thinking about it, too focused on the heat in your stomach that begged for release. “Come with me, please?” You requested softly, twining your fingers through his.

 

Bo looked at your joined hands, seeming like he was about to punch through his lower lip with how hard he bit down. His reply was nothing but a wordless moan, pulling his fingers from your grasp to rub firmly at your clit. You shuddered as he roughly caressed you, his brow furrowed from focusing on the task at hand. Your orgasm still managed to sneak up on you, turning you boneless over him. You were only _just_ able to wrap your arms around his neck to support yourself, rocking back and forth slowly and crying out as pleasure took over.  “ _Bo!_ ”

 

He buried his face in your neck again, his cock ramming up into you hard and fast as he came with a strangled moan of your name. You sighed in content, undoing the elastic from his hair and dropping it on the floor so you could run your fingers through the long brown strands. Bo hadn't stopped shaking yet and you hummed softly to him while you finger-combed his hair. You knew he had been physically neglected so it wasn't too far off to assume that he had been emotionally neglected as well, and normally nothing made you feel better after sex than if your partner stroked your hair while you came down.

 

“Are you alright?” You finally murmured, framing his jaw with your hands and making him meet your eyes. “Was that too much? Are you okay?” A couple more tears tracked down his cheeks and you bit your lip, emotions a little close to the surface after your intense orgasm. “Oh, sweetheart...”

 

“No no, n-no, I'm...these are happy.” Bo sniffled. “I don't usually cry, I p-promise. That'd be weird.” He rubbed at his eyes, puffing out a shaky breath. “It's...it's just a lot to handle. I...thank you, really. Thank you so much.” He said sincerely. “Can...c-can I have another kiss? One more?”

 

“You can have as many as you want, professor. This isn't a one-night kind of thing unless you want it to be, okay?” You assured him, letting yourself be drawn down to his mouth.

 

“Thank you, thank you, Jesus Christ thank you.” He breathed when the two of you parted, pressing his forehead to yours. He searched your eyes, seeming pensive. “Just so you know,” He began hesitantly, “You...you got a B plus on your final. I promise, it had nothing to do with this, I can show--”

 

“ _Professor!_ I didn't want to have it spoiled!” You protested. Then, his words hit you. “A B _plus?!_ Oh _hell_ yeah!” You were halfway through pumping your fist in victory when you remembered that you were still partially naked in your professor's lap. “I mean, uh...”

 

Bo started to laugh, the happy noise filling the room. “Glad I could make your night.” He finally wheezed out between his giggles, rubbing his nose against your own. “I really...I don't want this to be a one-night thing.” He admitted. “I like talking to you. I'd like to talk to you a lot more. Maybe you can teach  _me_ a thing or two.”

 

“That's fine by me, professor.” You bit your lip, smiling at him. “You feeling up to a late night cram session?”

 


End file.
